


reckless

by alongthewatchtower



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fingering, Lingerie, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Denial, boys in suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2014-07-21
Packaged: 2018-02-09 20:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1996527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alongthewatchtower/pseuds/alongthewatchtower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry thinks it's criminal, the way Louis looks in his suit, sharp and expensive.</p>
<p>The feeling's mutual, judging by the way that (at his mother's wedding, no less) Louis leans in and says, "I bet you can fuck me without ruining that suit." </p>
<p>Harry does his best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	reckless

**Author's Note:**

> someone posted on tumblr, saying "QUICK I NEED A FIC OF HARRY SNEAKING LOUIS OFF INTO A CORNER AND TELLING HIM HOW FUCKING GOOD HE LOOKS IN THAT SUIT AND SEEING THE OUTLINE OF PANTIES AND GRINDING HIS DICK INTO HIM DEAR GOD PLEASE LET ME LIVE." 
> 
> this isn't quite that fic, but it's close. wedding!fic.

It’s unbelievably reckless.  
  
There are a hundred people milling around, all of them with camera phones, and Alberto gave them a heads-up that security spotted some paps with long lenses all the way back at the main road. This isn’t a closed room in a venue, it’s a pretty piece of lawn _outside_ , in the bright sunshine, but that doesn’t stop Louis from leaning in once Lottie’s turned away.

It’s reckless, but Louis looks at Harry, eyes hidden by his sunglasses, and says, “I bet you can fuck me without ruining that suit.”

Harry’s mouth drops open. For a moment, it doesn’t matter that they’re surrounded by people - it’s as if the world shrinks to just the two of them, Harry’s beautiful mouth, the way his tongue darts out to lick his lips and Louis thinks, _yeah, I had my dick in that mouth last night_ , lost in memories of the night before. Harry’s eyes are hidden by his aviators and his face is shadowed by that damn hat - _please do wear your_ fancy _farmer’s hat, Harold, can’t have you looking a slob at my mother’s wedding_ \- and it’s a good thing, too, because Louis knows how Harry’s gaze goes hot, when his mouth goes slack and a flush rises in his cheeks.

Harry closes his mouth with a snap. “Might ruin yours, though,” he says, voice lower than usual.

Louis raises an eyebrow. “I’d prefer it it one piece, but you’re perfectly welcome to what’s underneath it,” he says, turning to go after his sister. “Fifteen minutes, inside? Bathroom?” He doesn’t wait for a reply, nodding at Niall and going in search of Alberto. He’s reckless, not stupid.

“Louise! Come take a walk with me,” he hears Harry say, and smirks, heading to make his own way indoors as Harry and Lou disappear between two marquees.  
  
It takes Harry seventeen minutes to find him.  
  
After four minutes, Louis has made use of the hook on the back of the stall door, jacket carefully hung to avoid wrinkling, and is in the process of removing his trousers, folding them and slinging them over the door. His Mum’d kill him if he had to pose for photos with come stains on his suit. He feels a bit of a knob with shoes on, though, so he’s ditched his shoes and is trying not to feel awkward in his socks, the cool of the tile bleeding through the thin fabric. At least the place is posh, and meticulously clean. It even smells nice, and it’s a bloody _bathroom_.   
  
Louis fishes a little tube out of his jacket pocket, squeezing the contents over three fingers and shoving his underwear down, out of the way. His brand new underwear, that he’s not going to ruin with lube before Harry at least has a chance to appreciate his effort. He slicks himself as quickly as he can, ignoring the burn that the sudden stretch of two fingers causes, dropping his head to his chest and breathing hard at the graze of fingertips over his prostate. Louis grits his teeth and carefully avoids touching it again as he adds another finger - that’s not the point of this exercise. The point is to stretch himself as best he can in the minutes before Harry arrives. So that when he finally gets his hands on his boyfriend, Harry can just bend him over and fuck his beautiful big cock right in. Louis glances at the watch on his left wrist. Eleven minutes.  
  
Louis pulls his fingers out, resisting the temptation to just push them back in and have Harry find him like this, spread open and fucked out on his own fingers. He washes his hands, fixes his hair, unbuttons a few buttons at the bottom of his shirt to better show off the hard line of his cock in his underwear. Fifteen minutes.  
At seventeen minutes, the door to the bathroom slams open, rebounding off expensive tile. There’s the sound of heels on tile - _those bloody boots_  - but they stop.

“Louis?” Harry sounds uncertain, as if the presence of Alberto outside was just to throw him off, and Louis is hiding in another bathroom somewhere.

“About time, Harold,” Louis says, pulling the stall door open.  
  
*  
  
Hearing Louis’ voice is an abrupt relief. They're being unbelievably stupid, meeting in a bathroom when they have a perfectly good room upstairs. Mind you, in the privacy of your own room with relatively little chance of being discovered isn't half as fun.

Harry rounds the corner of the bathroom, heading for the wooden stalls - and makes a sound that gets caught in his throat, strangled. 

Louis is - Louis is smirking at him, leaning against a toilet stall door, one eyebrow raised as if to say, _well_?

“Nnh _yes_ ,” Harry manages eventually. Not his most eloquent response, really, but when Louis Tomlinson is half-naked and looking at you, there’s really no forming proper words.

Louis seems to have lost his jacket, trousers and shoes, and the bottom few buttons of his shirt ( _their_  shirt, the same one they both own) are undone. Beneath the bottom of his shirt, peeking out in the space where it’s undone, are white panties. Harry narrows his eyes. Expensive, white silk and lace panties the _exact_  same shade as his shirt. The contrast of tan skin and white silk would surely punch the breath out of Harry if he had any in his lungs at this point.  
Harry clears his throat. “Sorry I’m late,” he says, going for cool. He mostly fails, of course, but it’s worth it to see Louis laugh. “God, you’re hot.”

“You’re not bad,” Louis says, and he’s _much_  better at sounding unaffected. “Got your tits out and everything.”

“Know how much you like them,” Harry says, taking a step closer. His heels echo on the tile floor, and they’re going to be too bloody loud for this, they need to stop, whose idea was it to fuck in a _bathroom -_  
  
Louis palms himself through his panties, cock a hard line in the pretty silk, a damp spot under his thumb, up near the waistband.

“Right,” Harry says, and grabs his boyfriend about the waist.

Louis goes easily when Harry pushes him up against the wall, arching his body to try and grind his hips up against Harry’s.

“None of that,” Harry says, pinning his hips to the wall. “Can’t _ruin my suit_ , remember?”

Louis glares up at him, and Harry grins, ducking in for a kiss. Louis tastes like champagne, tastes _expensive_ , and bites Harry’s bottom lip when he breaks the kiss. Harry squats, not willing to chance his trousers even if the floor looks clean, and braces himself on Louis’ thighs. The muscles flex underneath his touch, and Harry squeezes gently, large hands spread across tanned skin, before leaning in to lick at the place where Louis’ leaking cock is making a damp spot on expensive satin. He takes his time, sucking at the material to draw the taste of Louis’ pre-come through the fabric, his saliva making even more of a mess. Louis whines as he moves away, mouth moving downwards to trace the line of Louis’ cock.

“Harry, come _on_ ,” Louis pants.

He could do this all day, he really could, but they don’t have the time and this definitely isn’t the place. Harry looks up, watches the long line of Louis’ neck, head stretched to the side as he bites his lip. It’s a sharp contrast to the way his shirt is still buttoned at the top, prim and respectable. Harry has a sudden urge to wreck it, to wreck _Louis._ He springs to his feet, and Louis opens his eyes just in time to be manhandled across the room to the sinks. He hisses as Harry presses him up against the closest one, cool porcelain making contact with his bare thighs just below his crotch.  
  
*  
  
Harry lets go of Louis’ hips with one hand, hooking an arm over Louis’ shoulder to grasp his chin. “Look up, Lou,” he says, and Louis does, meeting Harry’s gaze in the mirror. _Fuck._  He looks - he looks like a _whore_ , unbuttoned and dripping in his panties, bitten lips and flushed cheeks. Harry’s fully dressed and still wearing his bloody _hat,_ pressing him forward with the line of his own erection in the small of Louis’ back, eyes dark with intent. Louis can’t help but moan at the sight, low and needy.

Harry smiles, slow and full of promise, and lets go of his chin, slipping his arm under Louis’ so he can grope at Louis’ dick in his trousers. “How long have you been planning this, hmm?”

“Not long,” Louis says, though it comes out a bit strangled as Harry’s fingers slip over the head of his cock, the damp silk catching in all the right places. “Got them in Italy."

“They’re nice,” Harry says, voice light like he doesn’t notice the Louis is rocking his hips now, desperate for more friction.

“Of course they’re nice, Harold, they cost me three hundred pounds,” Louis scoffs. “They’d look even nicer around my ankles, though.”

He jerks abruptly at the crack of Harry’s free hand on his arse, expensive silk doing nothing to stop the way his skin heats up under the slap. “That’s for me to decide, though, isn’t it?”

Louis nods, willing to concede if it gets him off faster.

“Good,” Harry says, kissing his neck. His fingers tease at the head of Louis’ cock again, and Louis feels his knees tremble, leans more heavily against the sink. Harry’s worrying the skin under Louis’ ear with his teeth now, and Louis opens his mouth to warn about marks when Harry pulls away, pressing a kiss to the skin he’d just been nibbling on.

“So fucking sexy in that suit,” Harry says, voice low, and Louis feels his cock _throb._  “Y've idea what you do to me.”

“Show me,” Louis orders, pushing his arse out to rub against Harry’s erection, surely ruining the line of his tailored trousers. It comes out more like a plea.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry growls, shoving Louis’ panties down below his arse. “Do you have-“

“Don’t need it,” Louis says, pushing his arse back, but Harry’s grip on his hips halts the motion.

“Lou,” he says, voice serious, and Louis rolls his eyes at his stupid, _caring_  boyfriend.

“Haz,” Louis mimicks, rolls his hips again. “I _don’t need it.”_ He watches in the mirror as Harry’s eyes widen at the realisation, as two fingers move down to trace his rim, slick with lube and fluttering around the probing fingers. The fingers abruptly disappear, and Harry fumbles with his left hand at something in his trouser pocket, gripping Louis’ hip with the fingers that had just been in his arse, as if Harry is reminding himself not to put those fingers anywhere near his immaculate suit.  
  
There is the sound of a zipper, and then the hot, hard nudge of Harry’s cock between his cheeks. Harry rips a condom packet open with his teeth, fingers clumsy as he works it onto himself.

“Now who’s been planning things,” Louis teases, but he’s grateful his boyfriend is such a boy scout. Taking photos at your mum’s wedding with an arse full of come would _suck_. Harry tugs him backward, forcing him back a step so he’s not leaning up against the sink, just bracing himself against it. It’s a sign that it’s going to be hard and fast, and Louis’ hole clenches in anticipation.

Harry doesn’t make him wait, only rubbing the head of his cock over Louis’ rim once, before thrusting in, one smooth, long glide that leaves Louis gasping, chin dropping down against his chest. His hole burns at the stretch, because fuck, his boyfriend does have a lovely big dick.   
  
And then - nothing.

Harry is motionless, balls-deep in Louis but unmoving, and Louis snaps his head up. “What the fuck are you waiting for?” he asks, meeting Harry’s eyes in the mirror.

“That,” Harry says, and pulls out almost all the way, only the head of his cock still inside Louis before he thrusts in again. Louis moans, but doesn’t drop his head again. Message received, he’ll keep eye contact. He pants as Harry draws himself out and slams back in hard, finding his rhythm and clenching his fingers bruise-tight on Louis’ hips.

“Touch yourself,” Harry says, voice strained, and Louis moves his left hand to the mirror to brace himself against Harry’s thrusts. His right hand drops to his cock, and he moans at the touch, forming a fist Harry fucks him into with every push in.

Harry is swearing behind him, altogether too soon, the brutal pace making his thrusts erratic before Louis is ready to come, and he starts to jack himself in earnest, determined to come at the same time -

“Don’t come,” Harry says, and Louis whines.

“That’s not f-“

“Don’t. Come.” Harry snaps, tugging his hand off his dick and lacing his fingers through Louis’ tightly. 

Louis grits his teeth as he watches Harry in the mirror. Harry is looking down at his arse, at the way Louis’ body just _takes_  what he’s giving it, but he snaps his gaze up to meet Louis’, as if conscious he’s being watched. He doesn’t break eye contact, even when his thrusts falter and he shoves in _hard_ , holding himself deep as his cock twitches inside Louis.  
  
*  
  
When Harry pulls out, Louis is frozen against the sink, breathing hard with the hand Harry drops clenching into a fist, the other holding himself up. He’s still watching Harry, who grins, and promptly ignores him for a moment. The cleanup is quick and efficient, a flush of the condom, use of the next sink along, and a few swipes of one of the clean hand towels on the shelf. Harry makes a mental note to kick it under the sink after they’re done, lest anyone else use it and get a handful of spunk and lube.

“Forgetting something?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes at him.

“Nah,” Harry says, fixing his fly. He reaches down to where the panties are caught around Louis’ thighs, and carefully tugs them up and over Louis’s arse, pulling his hand off his dick so Harry can pull them up at the front as well. The bulge of hard cock in white silk is even more obscene than before.

Louis’ mouth drops open in outrage. “What the fuck do you-"

“Hands on the counter, Lou,” Harry says, palming the length of him through the silk. “C’mon. You’re going to come in those pretty panties for me.”

Louis moans, and his head drops forward at the touch, already so very close to orgasm.

“That’s it,” Harry murmurs, bringing his other hand around Louis so he can jack him through the silk with his right hand and tease at the head of Louis’ cock with his left. “You gonna come for me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Louis says, and fuck if he doesn’t sound like Harry’s been fucking his throat instead of his arse, shivering when Harry’s teeth tug at his earlobe.

Harry rubs hard with two fingers, just under the crown of Louis’ cock, and says, “Come for me.”

And Louis, beautiful, perfect Louis, _does_.

Harry touches him through it, watching in the mirror as Louis’ cock twitches and jerks in his panties, as the wet stain of his come spreads across the silk.  
“Beautiful,” he whispers, kisses Louis’ cheek where he blushes. Harry’s just made him come in his _panties_ , and his ridiculous boyfriend is blushing at a compliment.  
  
Louis is lazy and malleable after, pliant the way he always is after orgasm, and Harry tugs his panties down again to clean him up, shoving them down to his ankles so Harry can dry him off and carefully pat his lube-slick hole clean. He turns away to wash his hands and when he looks back, Louis is already pulling up his trousers, wincing at the feeling of his sensitive cock against the fabric. He’s trying to shove his feet back into his shoes without doing them up as he buttons his shirt.

“That took far too long, Harold,” Louis says, pretending to be annoyed.

Harry smacks a kiss on his mouth. “You loved it,” he says, smug.

Louis makes a noncommittal sound, retrieving his panties from the floor. He wrinkles his nose at them. “What the hell am I supposed to do with these?”

“I’ve got it,” Harry says, plucking them from his hand. He pats the worst of the come off on the towel, noting with satisfaction the way the come stain still darkens the fabric. Maybe Louis can model them for him tonight.

Louis watches him, eyes dark, as Harry folds up the soiled panties and tucks them into his jacket pocket. “That’s my wedding souvenir sorted,” Harry says, patting the barely-there bulge, not visible from the outside. Louis snorts, reaching for his jacket.

“I quite like this suit,” Harry says, smoothing the lapel into place. “I hoped I’d get a chance to pull it off you.”

“Later,” Louis promises.  
  
(It’s much, _much_  later before Harry gets to peel Louis out of his suit. When they’re pleasantly tipsy and the party is winding down, because apparently they haven’t been reckless enough for one day, Louis shoves him into an empty catering tent and tries to suck his brain out through his dick. He really goes for it, with everything his jealous gaze had promised when Harry had danced with somebody’s cousin’s friend earlier in the evening. Louis shoves himself down on Harry’s cock like he’s trying to make it a part of himself, not stopping until his nose is grazing Harry’s pubic bone, throat fluttering around Harry as Louis swallows and swallows and _swallows_ , until Harry shouts and comes. Louis looks unbearably smug, after, and doesn’t let Harry return the favour, despite the way his own dick is now a visible line in his trousers. He just takes off his jacket, folding it over his arm and holding it in front of his crotch, and says, “ _later, I promise_.”  
Harry holds him to it.)

**Author's Note:**

> like this? there's more wedding!fic to be found [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2004594)
> 
> thanks for reading! let me know what you think below, or come say hi on [tumblr](http://www.downintinpanalley.tumblr.com/)


End file.
